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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319667">A Solstice Tradition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabySpaniel/pseuds/BabySpaniel'>BabySpaniel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Feels, Gen, No beta we die like Lord Sun, Presents, Solstice, Traditions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:21:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabySpaniel/pseuds/BabySpaniel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Solstice, a single package arrives to Amelia Saint Joshua’s home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Solstice Tradition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was inspired by a conversation in the discord about Amelia’s holiday traditions, sparked by ElectricPurple89. It was also cross-posted on the discord.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amelia had lived in the Exile Colony (publicly called “Elmdale” by the Americans) for years and still was amused by how they got their mail. Every day except Sunday, a friendly, old man walked up and dropped assorted bills and coupons into a little metal box on her porch. How <em>quaint.</em></p>
<p>Today, the man appeared with a package under his arm and rang the bell. Three days before Solstice, he was bundled up in a scarf and hat to ward off the chilled air. Amelia took his cue and wrapped a scarf of her own around her neck before pulling open the door. </p>
<p>“Morning, Miss. Amelia,” the man greeted. “Have a package for you to sign for today. Came priority, must be mighty important.”</p>
<p>Amelia finished signing the clipboard she had been handed and exchanged it for the package. Seeing the return address, a warm fire started burning in her heart. She smiled at the mailman. </p>
<p>“Special indeed, George. It’s from my dad.”</p>
<p>“Ah, the annual package,” George said in recognition. “Family still not coming to visit this year?” </p>
<p>“I’m afraid they won’t make it. But the packages are enough.”</p>
<p>“Well, I hope you’ll be okay here all alone. Have a happy holiday, Miss. Amelia,” George replied, turning to head back to his truck. </p>
<p>“You too, George, and a happy new year!”</p>
<p>Amelia brought the package inside and laid it gently on the table next to her bloodroot plant. She had a tradition for the packages and would not rush to open it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On Solstice morning, Amelia wandered into her small kitchen. She opened the chipped white cabinet and dug all the way to the back. Feeling around blindly, her fingers finally wrapped around a square box and she pulled it into the light. Dusting off the polished wood lid, she located and disarmed the airtight ward. With a soft click, the lid popped open. Inside was a pile of fine cacao powder sourced from Ghana, one of her last Solstice gifts from Mayan. She only used it to make one glass of hot chocolate a year, trying to ration it as long as possible. </p>
<p>Cup of steaming hot chocolate in hand, Amelia walked into the cozy living room and fiddled with the sound system until it started playing “Solstice Forever, Baby!” Her dad had played it every Solstice morning to tell Dalton and her it was time to open presents. She could still remember being six, the soft crooning notes drifting up the stairs of the Pac Bell filling her with excitement as she jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. That was the last Solstice her whole family was together, but Anton still played the song every Solstice morning up until Amelia had left. She didn’t know if he still did.</p>
<p>Next, she turned out the lights to her Christmas tree. It was a human tradition she fell in love with shortly after moving to the Exile Colony. She’d told Anton and Mayan about it her first Solstice there, back when they still talked. Anton thought it foolish, but Mayan was a big fan. He found the idea of a non-poisonous plant to celebrate the holidays a much preferred tradition to bloodroot.</p>
<p>
  <em>Anton had scoffed at this. “It’s like after all these centuries, you don’t trust that I know not to touch a poisonous plant. Please, I can fend for myself.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”In any fight, yes of course. I trust you implicitly. But, I still remember the Empress’s Solstice party in 1914 where a young, drunk Anton stumbled into an entire display of bloodroot plants. The hallucinations lasted two days. Your father was furious,” Mayan chided.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”That was nearly one hundred years ago! Let it go!” Anton reprimanded, laughing.</em>
</p>
<p>Amelia smiled fondly at the memory. That was the first year her father had sent her a Solstice package. </p>
<p>She settled into the sofa and traded the mug in her hand for the box. There was no wrapping, but Amelia used a nail to slice through the packing tape. Inside, the box was filled with packing peanuts that Amelia pushed aside until her hand wrapped around a sphere. Extracting it gently, she found the string at the top and held it up to the light. </p>
<p>The multicolored tree lights cast a rainbow over its shiny surface as a picture began to take shape. Light blue and grey mountains had been painted around the darker blue ball. The bottom half was covered by a clear, calm lake reflecting the scene. As Amelia turned the sphere, she spotted two small figures skiing down the side of one of the mountains. The figures were smaller than a coffee bean, but their delicate features were unmistakably those of Amelia and her father. </p>
<p><em>”Solstice break my last year at Magnus,”</em> Amelia thought with a smile. </p>
<p>It had been a solo trip with just her dad. He had spent weeks convincing Mayan to let them go unaccompanied for the three days. The short winter days were spent racing each other down the mountains, and they had built a magic-free fire every night. It was one of her best memories. </p>
<p>Amelia set the ornament at the base of her bloodroot plant as she finished her hot chocolate. The lights from her Christmas tree cast the mountains in a mythical red, pink, and green. </p>
<p>Hot chocolate finished, Amelia stood and grabbed the ornament. She walked past the tree on her way out of the living room; this ornament didn’t belong there. </p>
<p>The door to her room creaked gently as she pushed it open. On her dresser stood a smaller tree covered in lights the color of her court. This tree had thirteen ornaments all of the same size and color, each with a different winter scene painted on it. The Anton Tree. </p>
<p>In the empty space at the top, Amelia hung the newest ornament. It would hang in that place of honor until her father sent the next ornament in a year. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Back in New Atlantis, Anton sat in front of a crackling fire sipping whiskey. Blue paint stained the bottom of his silk pajama pants. </p>
<p>“Do you think she even opens the packages?” he asked morosely to the silent presence that had just joined him in the room. </p>
<p>“I am sure she does, habibi,” Mayan replied. “She will always love you.”</p>
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